Dernier Cri
by unpredictablemary
Summary: Mary is an executive for her father's publication company. Matthew is a well known lawyer. Their paths collide as both their lives are in transition, and it changes everything.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello! I'm back! After the CS I honestly just had to take a break, but I've had some modern M/M ideas rolling around in my head and I finally started writing them down. I hope you enjoy! _

* * *

The phone had been ringing off the hook all day. Even with her secretary to field her calls, Mary had been bombarded today. It shrilled again. Mary stared at it suspiciously. She had already had three story crises, two employee meltdowns and a botched interview to deal with this morning. If this was her father calling, she absolutely could not talk to him. With a sigh, she snatched up the phone.

"Mary Crawley."

"Mary, hi," her sister's voice came.

"Sybil!" Mary said with audible relief. "It's you."

"Who did you not want it to be?"

"Who do you think? Dad."

"Ugh. What's going on?"  
Mary rolled her eyes. "The usual. He's threatening to cut off my inheritance again."

Sybil snorted. "Of course he is. What for this time?"

"Oh… just some disagreements at the office." Mary fidgeted with the computer mouse.

"Hm. Does he even do anything over there anymore?"

"Well, he's become obsessed with the family tree again," Mary said, pushing her chair away from her desk and standing to pour herself a drink. "He's found some new seventh cousin or something who he's invited for dinner next Saturday. You'll be there, won't you?"

"I'm not sure," Sybil said. "I think we've a gala to attend that night."

"No you don't!" Mary cried. "You do not. Cancel. You are coming to dinner. I don't think I can stand an evening of Dad, Edith _and_ another new relative all on my own."

"I'm sorry, Mary, but Tom really has to be there. Can't you bring someone?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "I'm sick of bringing men to that house. I don't want to travel all the way to Yorkshire with someone I hate, either. And Daddy will just spend all evening trying to lure him to marry me anyway."

Sybil laughed. "Mary…"

"You know it's true. Look, I understand if you can't get away, but just try? Tom's a big boy; he can go on his own. Daddy won't like it if you miss dinner for some alternative newspaper thing again, anyway."

"The Bohemian is a perfectly respectable alt weekly. Someday Daddy will have to get over the fact that Tom writes for arts papers. Just like he'll get over the fact that I work for the Guardian. Why aren't you driving up with Edith?"

"He'll never get over that. You're a traitor for life. Edith's going Friday." Mary tapped her pen against her desk. "I have a thing Friday night."

"All right. Well, I'll see. We'll speak soon."

"All right, dear."

"How's Mom?"

"Oh, she's fine. Not as mad at me as Dad."

"Mary, honestly, why is Dad so mad at you?"

"When isn't he mad at me?" Mary said in a bored voice. "I'll speak to you later, dear. Have a good day. Love you."

"Bye, Mary. Love you too."

Mary put the phone down and sighed. She looked into her glass, which she hadn't sipped from. She put it back on the desk roughly, so some sloshed over the sides. She had an appointment near Chancery Lane at two o'clock. Maybe she would walk.

* * *

Mary adjusted the chunky diamond bracelet on her wrist and the matching necklace, looking at her reflection in the elevator. The walk had hardly cleared her head, and it had certainly mussed her hair. She smoothed her black sheath dress and tucked her hair behind her ears. She shouldn't be nervous to talk to a lawyer; she just needed advice, anyway. Her assistant had found this one for her, and apparently he was considered one of the best in the country.

The hallway was cool and neat. Mary looked down it and saw a door marked "Crawley, Hopper and Caine." She walked down the hall, restoring her own confidence with every high-heeled step, and pushed her way in.

"I mean, I'm not even related to these people." The man had his back to the door, and pushed a hand through his blond hair, mussing it thoroughly. "No, an eighth cousin once removed! We share the same last name and maybe a drop of blood, that's it. Now I'm meant to go to their estate and have an aristocratic dinner—I don't have time for that right now."

Mary cleared her throat. The man turned, startled, and did a double take. God, his eyes were blue.

"I'm sorry, can you hold on a moment?" he said into the phone. "I'm so sorry," he said to Mary. "What can I do for you? I'm afraid our secretary went home sick and—well—things have been rather hectic today." He smiled.

"That's quite all right," Mary said coolly. So this was him. She arched an eyebrow. "I'm looking for Matthew Crawley."

"That's me, can I help you?"

Mary held out her hand. "I'm Mary Crawley."

His eyes widened. His mouth gaped like a fish as he shook her hand. "John, I'm going to have to call you back." He hung up the phone and stared at her.

"Relation of Robert Crawley?"

"Daughter, I'm afraid," Mary said. "When I came in I was only looking for a lawyer, but I have deduced that you are also the long-lost cousin who is to come to dinner on Saturday. At our… aristocratic estate."

Matthew swallowed. "Yes, I'm—I'm sorry about that. You see, I'm in the middle of a big case and it's just poor timing, that's all. And I feel a bit out of place since—"

"Yes, I can see why you would." Mary let her eyes travel up and down his body, and she saw him blush. He was actually quite well-outfitted—his jacket had been discarded and his shirt sleeves were rolled up, but she could tell he had a good tailor—but she wouldn't let him know she thought that. She looked at him icily. "Well, I suppose I'll see you Saturday."

"Mary, wait—Miss Crawley. You said you were seeking legal counsel."

Mary's lips tipped in the barest smile. "I was. But I'm a strong believer that family and business don't mix. Goodbye, Mr. Crawley."

"Goodbye," Matthew said. "It was nice to—" But she was gone before he could finish the sentence.

Matthew sank to the chair, feeling both dumbfounded and foolish. Crawley… of course. He hadn't made the connection when he'd seen her name in his appointment book, but she must work for Crawley Publications. Now he felt like a prize idiot; not only had he offended her, but he'd potentially lost a big client, if she really had come for a lawyer. Maybe she'd just been coming to check him out ahead of the dinner. Those people did things like that, Matthew thought. Or maybe she didn't work for the family's company. She had said business and family don't mix.

Matthew logged on to the computer and typed her name into Google. Why hadn't he done this as soon as Lord Grantham had called him? It had all happened somewhat quickly, he supposed. Between his current case and his sister's move to London, he hadn't had much time to think about the unexpected dinner invitation until Lord Grantham had called to confirm the date with him that morning.

Matthew's eyes scanned the results. There were plenty of photos of her, out at galas and events. She was beautiful, but Matthew had seen that for himself. He pushed that out of his mind and clicked her Wikipedia page. Lady Mary Crawley… God, she was a lady. Well, it made sense, of course she was titled, he thought. Age 26… Editor-in-chief of Dernier Cri magazine; vice-chairwoman of the board, Crawley Publications; consulting editor, In, Newstime, and Entice magazines. God, the woman had a lot of awards… Matthew supposed he had heard of her vaguely before. Eldest daughter… made a name for herself despite entering the business under the shadow of her father… began as a writer for smaller newspapers, moved to Crawley Publications and worked her way up the ranks in three years… on Forbes' 30 under 30 two years running.

Against his will, Matthew was impressed. Mary seemed even more important in her industry than her father, and she was only 26. Only a year younger than Matthew. He sighed. He had known Robert Crawley was a powerful man; it was clear his daughter was powerful, too. And she already hated him.

* * *

_A/N: This is my first multi-chapter modern M/M so __I would LOVE to know your thoughts! Thanks for reading! xx_


	2. Chapter 2

It was ten minutes to five when Anna heard yelling coming from Mary's office. She listened keenly, trying to gauge how angry her boss actually was. Then she heard Mary slam the phone down into its receiver and curse. Definitely angry. Anna glanced at the clock again. Seven minutes to five. They had been so close.

"You're fucking kidding me," Mary shouted. "Anna!"

"Is everything okay?" Anna called, standing up. She considered it part of her job description to deal with crisis—and more often than not, there was a real mess to clean up. The magazine business, with tight deadlines and high-stakes content, was highly susceptible to disasters. Part of the key to success around here was simply having a cool head and working well under pressure—which was exactly what made Anna so valuable to her boss, and why she and Mary made such a good team.

"No," Mary yelled back. "Come here."

Anna entered Mary's office and closed the door behind her. "What happened?"

"They just did the photo shoot for the October issue—the one we had to reschedule for the last minute because the first photographer botched it, remember? And they did the shoot on location in Venice just like we planned and everything went perfectly and then the bloody photographer decided to take a gondola home and he dropped his camera in the water! Memory card and everything, it's gone."

"Oh, no." Anna sank down into the chair across from Mary's desk with an incredulous laugh. "Bloody idiot."

"And you know why this happened? Because my father didn't want a reshoot. He didn't let us send someone along. And we had to hire this shoddy cheap photographer instead of someone with enough brains not to _take his camera in a fucking gondola._" Mary put her hands on her hips, thin-lipped. "All because of my father. That stupid, stubborn man."

Anna nodded. She didn't know if Robert could be entirely blamed for the photographer's carelessness, but had learned to let Mary rant when it came to clashes with her father. Privately, Anna thought he was everything Mary said he was: selfish, greedy, and blinded by his love for his empire. The magazines were everything to Robert; founded by his grandfather, they were greater than any one person's existence, an endeavor bigger than himself, and so they were valued above all other things—above family.

But though Robert had steered the ship for the last twenty years, he had no knack for the business—at least, not the kind of knack that Mary had. His pride in her success had quickly turned to resentment, and Robert had begun to put himself more and more at odds with his daughter.

The initial photo shoot for the October spread had been his idea, which Mary had grudgingly signed off on in an attempt to warm office relations between them, though, as CEO of Crawley Publications, he had no actual editorial position at Dernier Cri. Robert had refused to admit it hadn't worked when every one of the photographer's shots had turned out horribly and had "redirected" the reshoot money to a project for Entice at the last minute.

Mary sat down and rubbed her face. "Anna. I have to get out of here."

"I know, Mary," Anna said sympathetically.

Mary looked up and cocked an eyebrow. "Don't worry. You know I'm taking you with me."

Anna smiled. "I know."

"God, and now I have to go spend this fucking weekend with my parents," Mary groaned. "I'm not even sure why I didn't say I wasn't coming, Sybil's not going, but I am, and you know how mad my dad has been at me ever since he found out I took that meeting with Harper's Bazaar. It's going to be terrible. I should have invited you along. Want to come?"

"No," Anna laughed. "Sorry, you've made it sound so appealing, but I have plans."

Mary laughed. "Fine. I'll just languish there and you can pick up the pieces on Monday."

"It won't be so bad," Anna said. "It'll be good for you to get out of London for a few days. We'll sort out this shoot before you go, and you won't have anything to worry about. Well, not much to worry about, anyway," she said, meeting Mary's eyes with a laugh. Having nothing to worry about was impossible in their business. "Let's focus on the damage control right now."

"Right," Mary said. "We only have a few days; I don't know if there's enough time to completely reshoot, but I have a couple of people I can call. Get me Donovan Ross' number first, and send someone to scope out some secluded courtyard spots in the city. We're going to have to turn London into Venice to get this done."

"If anyone can do that, it's you," Anna quipped. "Shall I order some gondolas?"

Mary threw a box of tissues behind Anna as she walked out of Mary's office. They laughed as they picked up their phones and got to work.

* * *

Matthew tossed his briefcase onto the couch carelessly, kicked his shoes off and tugged his tie loose as he went to the kitchen. He poured himself a drink and stared out the kitchen window as he downed it. He couldn't get the encounter with Mary Crawley out of his head—her dark eyes kept popping into his mind, with their cold expression, judgmental and offended and something else Matthew couldn't quite put his finger on.

His apprehension about the weekend had doubled thanks to that meeting. He just wanted to stop thinking about it, but she had invaded his thoughts all day as he had struggled to get his work done. He had been on the point of calling Robert to beg off more than once, but he had refrained out of some sense of duty or politeness that he almost scorned himself for. Who cared what those people thought? And then Mary's face popped into his head once more.

The buzzer sounded and Matthew crossed the room to let his sister in.

"God, you look awful," Ella said when he opened the door. "Good thing I brought takeout." She pushed past Matthew and began unloading her bags in the kitchen.

"Hello to you too," Matthew said, following her. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Ella said. "How are you?"

"Glad to be done for the day. How's the apartment?"

Ella rolled her eyes. "It's fine, big brother. I'm settling in wonderfully. And it's a good thing I'm here, because you and your bachelor pad clearly need someone to cheer them up." She eyed the dirty dishes in the sink with distaste. "Will you let me redecorate?"

"_No_," Matthew laughed. "No matter how many times you ask me, the answer isn't going to change."

Ella pouted. "Well, we have to do something fun."

"I'm _fine_, Ella. I've just been busy lately." It was true. Matthew was generally neat and clean; he was a good cook; he liked living alone. But the past few weeks had taken their toll on him. The past month or so, really.

"Have you even tried to meet anyone since Janie?"

"You think this is about Janie? I don't exactly have time to go out every night trying to meet women."

"You just seem out of spirits, that's all," Ella said, rooting through a drawer until she found a bottle opener.

"I'm not," Matthew said. "Well, not because I miss her, anyway." He rubbed his face. "That sounded awful, didn't it? I just… Don't worry about me, El. I promise I'm not pining away over Janie. In fact, I'm relieved."

Ella looked at him appraisingly. "Hmm. Then what's wrong with you?"

"I'm tired," Matthew said firmly. "You try being a lawyer. Come on, let's eat."

"You sit. I'll dish it up," Ella said.

Matthew obliged and went to the dining table with a sigh. No, he hadn't been thinking about his ex-girlfriend, but since they'd broken up five weeks ago he had certainly been preoccupied. It was depressing to realize you weren't in love with someone you thought you were in love with. Janie was sweet and kind and, well, a little boring. Life with her was comfortable and easy, but there had been no spark. Matthew felt guilty for breaking up with her. He knew objectively that Janie was a wonderful catch. Matthew just couldn't bring himself to feel it.

He pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose. Matthew had always dedicated himself to his work. It had earned him a top reputation and a partnership at a respected firm at a young age, but, as Ella was constantly reminding him, he didn't have enough fun. He was 27, and he wasn't even sure he knew what romantic love was. He felt like he had wasted a colossal amount of time with Janie just to break her heart, and he didn't know what on earth he wanted now.

"Here we go!" Ella set two glasses of wine on the table and returned with steaming plates. She slid into her chair and took a big bite of chicken. "So are you ready for our trip tomorrow?"

"Er—yeah, suppose so," Matthew said.

"I hope they're nice. Did you say they have daughters?"

"Three," Matthew nodded. "The youngest one is around your age, I think." He swallowed a bite of food, debating whether or not to mention meeting Mary that morning. Before he could, Ella launched into a story about getting lost trying to find the closest Tesco to her apartment that morning, and Matthew was content to listen. He was glad to have his little sister in London. He had missed her. Did that mean he was lonely? He sighed again. Maybe Ella was right. And maybe he was wrong about this weekend. Maybe it would be good for him to get away.

* * *

Mary sat in bed in boxer shorts and a tank top, papers strewn all over the bed. When she and Anna had been roommates in college, Anna had always admonished her for doing homework in bed. You aren't supposed to bring work into the place you sleep, she always said, and she claimed Mary would be more relaxed if she only did her work at the table. But Mary had always been a bed-worker, ever since she'd been a little girl staying up late to write stories in her journal. Tonight, she had stayed in the office until nine, but she still had things to finish up before bed.

London was experiencing a rare heat wave, and Mary had opened the window in an effort to coax in a nonexistent evening breeze. She felt sticky and lethargic as she stared at the papers that were carefully arranged atop the duvet.

Stacking the plans for the February issue, she pulled up her calendar on her laptop. Anna had sent her contact information for two editors at other publications with whom Mary could schedule meetings if she decided to. Mary hovered her mouse over Anna's email, staring at their names.

Mary's desire to leave Dernier Cri and Crawley Publications was something she had not articulated to anyone except Anna. She had only had the one meeting, the one with Harper's, though she could set up more as soon as she wanted to—and she knew there were editors out there who were eager to meet with her. But as much as she hated working with her father on a day-to-day basis, Mary hadn't fully made up her mind. It would be painful to leave the place she'd put so much energy into, the place she'd grown up dreaming of working at, the place that was, really, her birthright—and that represented her hard work.

Mary held a fierce pride within her for having earned her position in Crawley Publications when it could have been given to her for nothing. That kind of self-worth wasn't something Robert understood, she often thought. But it defined Mary in many ways. Crawley Publications was her birthright _and _her merited due. And so it was hard to contemplate leaving. But increasingly, Mary was unable to reconcile her conflicts with her father, and she felt stifled creatively as he tried to curb her freedom at Dernier Cri. Robert's outrage upon finding out about the Harper's meeting had helped tip the scales in favor of leaving, and that's when Mary had set up the meeting with Matthew. As daughter and heiress, leaving the company wasn't as simple as it sounded.

Mary laughed humorlessly at the memory of her visit to Matthew Crawley. This weekend was guaranteed to be interesting, if nothing else. It had been a while since she'd had a good argument. The photographer she'd yelled at on the phone today had hardly been able to hold his own against her. Somehow she thought Matthew Crawley probably could.

Well, he was a lawyer, after all, she reminded herself, shuffling her papers into a stack and shutting her laptop. And apparently a bad-tempered one at that. Mary leaned over to turn off the light and sank down on her bed. It had been a long time since she'd been home, longer than usual. Maybe the grand old building and the familiar trees would help her know what to do.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for all your follows and kind reviews so far! Lots of setting-up in this chapter. Next time Mary and Matthew will actually interact, I promise :) I took some liberty with Matthew's family situation, but I like to think Ella takes after Isobel. Thanks for sticking with it- next update coming soon! x_


	3. Chapter 3

Matthew knocked on the red door of his sister's new apartment and slumped against the wall. He felt defeated, and he knew he looked it. He had promised himself to be more cheery with Ella today, but one of his colleagues had fallen ill that morning, leaving Matthew swamped with last-minute work. Matthew wanted to be amiable, but he had hardly had time to think about their strange weekend in the country, let alone mentally prepare for it. Though he was suave and social as his work required it, he was never at ease in high society. He was a little wary of people like the Crawleys, of their entitlement and their extravagant ways.

To make matters worse, Matthew was still thinking about the exchange with the daughter—he was sure she would've told the entire family what he'd said, and they would be ready to hate him before he and Ella even arrived. In fact, he was surprised Robert hadn't called to cancel. Matthew had half-hoped he would, truthfully; he would have preferred to spend the weekend catching up on work and sleep.

But either Mary hadn't told or the family wanted to engage in some sort of perverse humiliation by inviting them anyway, so here he was standing on his sister's doorstep with a duffel in hand.

Ella flung open the door and threw her arms around Matthew. He couldn't help grinning at the sight of his little sister's happy face.

"Hi! Come in, I've just got to throw a few more things in my suitcase." Ella led her brother into the apartment and proudly spun around. "I finished decorating! What do you think?"

"Very nice," Matthew said, looking around the small space. It was beautiful; Ella had always had an artist's touch with things like this. The décor reminded him a little of their childhood home, their father's home, which Ella had always maintained. He smiled. Their father had always said she took after their mother in that regard.

Ella, or Isobella, was named for their mother, Isobel, who had died shortly after giving birth to her. Matthew had been four. Their father, a successful doctor, had raised them. He had died two years ago, just after Matthew had started practicing law. They had agreed to use the inheritance fund to put Ella through medical school. She was starting at Queen Mary later that month, hence her move to London.

"Let me grab my stuff." Ella flitted out of the room and Matthew wandered into the living room. She had knick-knacks arranged along the hearth, including some pictures he hadn't seen in year. He picked up a framed photograph of him and Ella with their father on his college graduation day, Ella a gangly teenager and Matthew grinning as his father clapped him on the back. Matthew ran a finger over the glass.

"Ready?" Ella reappeared, a bag slung over one shoulder and a large purse in hand. "This is going to be fun, don't you think? Well, interesting at least. It's not like you get invited to stay in an old estate every day."

"Yes, fun," Matthew echoed. "Come on, let's go."

"You mean you still aren't excited to spend the weekend with our long-lost lord?" Ella laughed. "I think it's extraordinary. And it was very kind of them to invite us. And you know, it's not like we have a lot of family around. It would have been very rude to refuse, anyway."

"I know that," Matthew said. He picked up his bag and tossed Ella's duffel over his shoulder, immediately feeling bad about his grumpiness. He squeezed his sister's shoulders. "You're right. It'll be an adventure. Let's go see what these Crawleys have in store for us, shall we?"

Gratifyingly, Ella laughed. "Off we go to Yorkshire."

* * *

Mary had gathered her things and was already standing by the door, tapping her foot impatiently, as the train moved into Downton station. It had not been a particularly enjoyable ride. She had tried to get work done, knowing that it would be nearly impossible to accomplish anything once she got to Downton, but a large group of drunk and boisterous farmers in her compartment had kept her from concentrating until they'd all passed out about twenty minutes before arrival.

Mary sighed. She impatiently swiped her phone unlocked for the twentieth time in five minutes, as if that would make the emails she was waiting for appear. Instead, a text from Edith popped up.

_Apparently the cousins are on the same train as you. Dad says to look for them. He's sending the car for all of you._

Cousins plural? Her dad had only mentioned Matthew to her, Mary thought, although admittedly she hadn't been paying very good attention when Robert had told her he'd invited them to visit. Great, so there were more than one of them.

Mary looked around, but they obviously weren't in her compartment. She'd have to find them on the platform. Well, she remembered what Matthew looked like. She patted her hair and moistened her lips, wishing she could have preceded them to the house. Honestly, her father's obsession with their genealogy was getting inconvenient. Ever since he'd found out they had an ancestor who had died on the Titanic, he'd become obsessed with tracing their roots. They'd already had a viscount, who was something twice removed by married, an ex-wife of a great-uncle and an addled fifth cousin over to visit.

_I can't believe I'm wasting my time here this weekend, _Mary texted Sybil. _More than that I can't believe you're not with me._

She wasn't even at Downton yet and Mary was already grumpy. She knew her father was angry at her, and she knew exactly how he was going to act towards her. No one else in the family knew what was going on, and Mary knew from experience that it was a recipe for a disastrous evening.

Mary was the first one off the train when it stopped. Her leather weekender bag bouncing against her hip, she made her way down the platform, keeping her eyes out for that blond hair she found she remembered rather well. She spotted the car waiting in the pick-up zone and looked around impatiently. Maybe she could leave them here and say she hadn't seen Edith's text.

Then she saw a tall man coming off the train a little farther down the platform, a woman following close behind him. He was looking down at his phone, but it was definitely Matthew—was he _married_? Mary automatically started walking toward them. No, this girl had the same blue eyes, Mary saw as they got closer, though darker hair.

"Matthew," she called, and he looked up just as they met each other.

"Oh, hello, Mary," Matthew said, remarkably composed for someone who had insulted her on their last meeting, Mary thought. He and the girl came to a stop in front of her. "Were you on our train? This is my sister, Ella. Ella, this is Mary Crawley, Robert's daughter."

"It's nice to meet you," Ella said, holding out her hand.

"Pleasure," Mary said. _Sister_. She'd been right. "My father has sent the car for us, so if you'll follow me, we can get going."

"It was very kind for your family to invite us for the weekend," Ella said as they tried to keep up with Mary, who was walking rather quickly. "We were so surprised when he contacted Matthew."

"Yes," Mary said as they reached the car. "So were we. But it seems that if you look hard enough, you can find no end to the number of distant relations you have. Hello, Greg, how are you?"

She handed her bag to the driver, who bid her a fond hello. Matthew watched them. It would have been easy to believe she was snobby, yet her smile to the driver was the first real one he had ever seen on her face. Of course, he didn't know her very well. He didn't know her at all, he reminded himself.

"The ride was beautiful," Matthew said as they got in the car. "Yorkshire is lovely this time of year."

Mary smiled. Wait until they saw Downton, she thought, but she didn't say it. The grounds were hers to love. She didn't readily share her sanctuary.

"The novelty wears off after a while," she said instead in a bored tone, though it wasn't true at all. "Where did you say you're from?"

"I didn't," Matthew said. "Manchester."

"Manchester."

Matthew was sure he wasn't mistaking the judgment in her voice. "Yes, in fact, Ella's only just moved to London last week. She was up at Cambridge, and now she's about to start medical school at Queen Mary."

Mary didn't miss the brotherly pride behind Matthew's words. So he was definitely the older one, she thought. "Good luck," she said to the sister. "I went to Oxford, myself. Where did you study, Matthew?"

"Oxford, actually," Matthew said. "I did politics, and then I did my law degree there as well."

"Really," Mary said. "I did English and French."

"We must've been there at the same time, mustn't we?" Matthew said. "I graduated five years ago."

"Four. But I suppose we weren't in the same circles." So he was only twenty-seven, Mary thought. She wasn't really surprised, based on his looks, but it was young for a lawyer of his standing.

"I reckon not." Matthew matched her loftiness.

Oblivious to the tension, Ella, ever enthusiastic, launched into a story about a time she'd visited Matthew at Oxford. Matthew tuned her out, his thoughts (and eyes) on the woman in the front seat. He was intrigued against his will by her. He wanted to dislike her, but he couldn't quite manage it. She was clearly smart, and even more stunning in person than he had remembered. The jury was still out on kind, though. Although he supposed he couldn't blame her if she was short with him.

Matthew realized he was watching her and looked out the window. He was aware that it would be easy to become transfixed by her, as cold as she seemed, if he wasn't careful. Although he could never _truly_ like a woman like that, he thought, almost defensive in his own mind.

He watched the scenery for the rest of the drive, wondering what the rest of the family would be like. Regardless, Ella was right—it wasn't every day that you were invited to stay at a historic house like this one. Matthew had done some reading on Downton Abbey's history, and he was excited to get a full tour. He wondered if Mary would be the one to give it.

Ella was talkative enough for the three of them, which was fine with Mary. She listened with half an ear, alternately worrying about seeing her father and being annoyed by Matthew's silence. She couldn't get a read on him, which bothered her even more. She had found herself annoyed, too, when he had said he also attended Oxford—she'd pegged him as a Cambridge man, if anything. She was glad she was sitting in the front seat so she didn't have to look at him. Something about those eyes unsettled her.

"Here we are," Mary said as the car pulled into the long drive. "Home sweet home."

Matthew chuckled at her dry tone, but it turned into a real laugh when he saw the building rising in front of them. It was enormous, beyond anything that could be conveyed in photographs. He gaped incredulously. To think it really _was _her home!

"It's huge," Ella said in awe.

"Yes, it is rather big," Mary said drily. "We only live in part of it. Part is cordoned off for tourists, and some rooms aren't used at all anymore. Come on. I see my father has brought out a welcome party."

Mary stretched as she got out of the car, breathing the familiar air in deeply. She let a small smile turn up her lips as she looked around the grounds. Her mother, father and sister stood at the front of the house; her mother waved and Mary waved back. As much as she wanted to get the weekend over with, it did feel good to be home.

Matthew stared up at the building open-mouthed as they followed Mary to the front door. It was magnificent; there were really no words to describe its majesty. The sun glinted down from a perfectly blue sky, and there was greenery everywhere.

"Matthew!" Robert exclaimed when they neared the house. "And this must be Ella. What a pleasure to meet you two." He shook Matthew's hand warmly, then Ella's.

"Hello, Mom," Mary said quietly, stepping over to kiss her mother on the cheek. "Hi, Ed." She hugged her sister briefly.

Edith raised her eyebrows. "So here are the cousins," she murmured. Mary responded with a smirk.

"It's nice to meet you," Matthew said. "Thank you so much for having us."

"Not at all," Robert said. "This is my wife, Cora—" They exchanged hellos and handshakes—"And my middle daughter, Edith. And this is Isis," he said, patting the dog at his feet. "Sybil, our youngest, couldn't join us this weekend."

"It's lovely to meet you all," Ella said. "This is a beautiful place."

"Thank you," Cora said. "Please, come in, and we can show you where you'll be staying. Carson will take your bags up for you."

"We'll give you the grand tour later," Robert said as they entered the house. "Edith is a very good tour guide."

"Yes, I'll show you all around. Are you interested in history?" Edith asked.

"Er—I am, yes," Matthew said. "I admit I did read up on Downton a little."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Mama, what time is dinner?"

"In half an hour," Cora said. "We'll let you two get settled and then we'll eat. Would either of you like anything now? A drink? We can send something up to your rooms if you like. Here, follow me."

Cora led them up the stairs. Mary tried to follow, but Robert caught her arm.

"Mary."

"Yes?"

"You don't even say hello to me now?"

"I said hello to everyone. You were busy talking to Matthew. I'm going to my room."

"We have things to discuss, you know."

"Not yet we don't," Mary snapped.

"We do if I say we do!"

Mary looked into his eyes and her anger boiled up fresh. With a hard stare, she wrenched her arm out of his grasp and mounted the stairs.

* * *

_Things are about to pick up! What do you want to happen at Downton? Thanks for reading! x_


	4. Chapter 4

Matthew sat at the foot of the bed, staring at the room he was in. Unbelievably fluffy down blankets, long embroidered curtains, four-poster bed. There were paintings on the walls and little relics arranged around the room that he supposed were from the house's younger days—real artifacts. He loosened his tie, wondering how much it cost to maintain this place. He could never help thinking about ways money like this could be better used. Even so, it was an undeniably beautiful estate.

He jumped when he heard a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," he said, clearing his throat and hastily straightening his tie, but it was only Ella, dressed for dinner.

"Hi," she said quietly. "It's almost dinnertime."

Matthew nodded. "Hope it's good. I'm starving."

"I'm sure it will be. They probably have three chefs!"

They giggled, both of them feeling slightly awkward.

"This is insane," Ella whispered. "I feel like a princess."

One corner of Matthew's mouth tipped up. "Don't get used to it."

Ella laughed. "I never could!"

_Knock-knock-knock._ Matthew glanced at Ella, made sure his tie really was fixed, and opened the door to see Mary standing in the hall. She had replaced her jeans and blazer with a dark red dress, which was cut like a business skirt but was tight enough to make Matthew swallow hard and force his gaze away. Mary's hair was down, falling across her shoulders in sleek waves. It was longer than Matthew had realized. But none of this mattered, he reminded himself.

"Hello," Matthew said.

Mary raised her eyebrows. "Time for dinner. Are you ready?"

Matthew wondered if she always made the people she talked to feel judged, or if it was just with him. He was beginning to feel somewhat nettled by her.

"Yes," he said shortly. "We are."

"Good. Follow me."

Matthew gave Ella a look, which she returned with one of her signature quelling glances, and they followed Mary to the dining room.

After pleasantries had been exchanged, they were served the first course. Mary was delighted to see that it was her favorite creamy tomato-cheese soup. Matthew was seated across from Mary, and Mary glanced at his plate, watching him as they began to eat. She raised her eyebrows when he succeeded in picking up the correct spoon.

"It's delicious," Matthew said, nodding to Cora.

"I'm glad you like it," Cora simpered. "It's Mary's favorite."

"I'll have to have your chef give mine the recipe," Matthew said. There was a flat silence, then Robert let out a loud laugh. Edith and Cora quickly chuckled.

"Matthew wishes he were a comedian," Ella said affectionately.

"Don't all men?" Cora returned. "You should hear some of Robert's best."

"By best you mean worst," Edith said wryly, and everyone chuckled.

Mary rolled her eyes and turned to Matthew, fixing him with a smile that he felt could only be termed predatory.

"So tell us more about Manchester," she said.

"Well, it's actually a lovely place," Matthew said. "We enjoyed it very much. We had quite good schooling, and we're still very close with some of the families we knew there. Our father was rather well known in the city."

Ella nodded. "It was very sad when we had to sell the house, but Matthew and I still make it back there sometimes, don't we?"

"That's lovely," Cora said. "There's no place like home."

"Have you ever been there?" Matthew asked, looking at Mary.

She raised her eyebrows. "Me? I stayed there once when I was at a conference. There was a problem with the trains and we got stranded. It was terrible. We ended up checking into a Travelodge at midnight. There were bedbugs. But your description makes it sound quite charming. Schools and families." She gave him another one of her insincere smiles.

"We had a good childhood," Matthew said, returning her gaze steadily. Her insults were not lost on him, and he wanted her to know he knew it. Matthew dealt with people who wanted to look down their nose at him every day, and he had learned how to prove that he could hold his own. He looked at her with a hard expression, and they held eye contact a moment longer than necessary. When Mary finally looked away, Matthew felt a small bit of triumph.

Those stupid eyes. Mary blinked, quickly turning her attention to her father, who was speaking. She took a sip of wine and pretended to listen raptly to Robert. She had lost the train of conversation, but it became clear that Robert had embarked on a lengthy explanation of how they were related, the key point being that Matthew and Ella were part of a different branch of the family but descended from someone who had married a Crawley, that ancient Crawley being their first common ancestor. Or something like that.

"So we aren't really related by blood?" Edith asked.

_Gross_. Mary rolled her eyes. Edith was probably wondering if that meant it would be okay to get in his pants. As if he would ever want someone like her. Mary wondered whether he was good in bed. It was a fifty-fifty chance, probably. Although there was a distinct possibility he was, she thought, her eyes traveling up his suited torso and coming to rest on his lips.

_Whoa. _What was wrong with her? She cleared her throat, shifting in her chair. It must be the stress from work, she thought. She really should have made some excuse and stayed in London. At least she and her father had made it this far into dinner without arguing. Mary sighed, thinking longingly of an evening alone in her flat with a pint of ice cream and a bottle of wine.

"Not too much, no," Robert was saying. "But though we may not share blood, we share a last name. And that's something to toast! Welcome, Matthew and Ella." He raised his glass and everyone followed, murmuring cheers.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Matthew?" Cora asked sweetly.

"No, I'm afraid not," Matthew said.

Mary stared at her mother. She had heard Cora say that to too many young men. She glanced up, feeling embarrassed, but Matthew only had a polite look on his face as Cora responded.

"Oh, that's too bad," Cora said. "But you never know when you're going to meet new people." She smiled around at the table. "Our youngest, Sybil, turned out to be the first one to settle down. She's engaged to a writer. It was quite a surprise to us. But Mary and Edith here are still on the market." She laughed prettily.

Mary went stony-faced, but Edith, always overeager, turned to him with a giggle. "Don't mind Mama. What kind of law do you practice?" she asked.

"Right now, mainly corporate stuff," Matthew said, shifting slightly under Edith's gaze. "Most of our clients are large companies. But I did public defense for a very short time at the beginning of my career, and that's what I would really love to get back to someday."

"Defending criminals?" Mary said, lifting an eyebrow.

"Defending people who can't get representation any other way," Matthew said, turning towards her. "Don't you believe that everyone has the right to a fair trial?"

Why were his eyes so blue? It was distracting. Mary added that to her mental list of reasons why he annoyed her.

"Of course. I just don't know that I would defend them."

"_You_ wouldn't defend anybody," Edith said with a little laugh.

"Well, Matthew just likes working with people in need better than with the corporations," Ella cut in. "It's a very different kettle of tea when you're talking about high-profile executives and monolithic businesses."

"Charitable work is always commendable," Robert said. "Crawley Publications has a benefit gala each year, don't we, Mary?"

Mary smiled tightly. Wanting to fill the silence, Ella turned to Edith.

"And what do you do, Edith?"

"Oh, I'm a reporter for _Newstime_," Edith said.

Matthew raised his eyebrows. "So you really are a family of journalists."

"You could say that," Mary muttered.

Edith nodded enthusiastically. "I wasn't originally going to go into the business, but I love being a columnist."

"Yes, we know you do," Mary said. Was Matthew imagining it, or was there a smirk on Mary's face? Whatever he had expected out of this dinner, it wasn't this.

* * *

The rest of dinner went by slowly and was mainly occupied by Robert asking Matthew all kinds of questions about his work and personal history. It was practically an interrogation, Mary thought. She couldn't help herself from glancing back at Matthew when the other courses were served. They were trickier than the soup and salad, but he knew what silverware to choose. Mary knew her disappointment at his good manners was irrational; he was a top lawyer who had attended Oxford, of course he knew how to use a fork. But she couldn't help wanting to find fault with him. She was aware that she was failing so far.

When dessert finally arrived, she had little appetite left. Besides, it was tarte au cassis, and Mary hated currants. She picked at hers while she watched Matthew talk with her father at the other end of the table. Robert seemed to be enjoying himself heartily. Well, he had always wanted a son, Mary thought dryly.

They retired to the drawing room and Robert served drinks. Mary, who had become steadily more tense over the evening, was very glad for the scotch. Pretending to like her father was draining, and she had found herself annoyingly off her game during dinner when it came to needling Matthew.

They stood for a few minutes, making small talk. Edith began telling one of her horribly long and slow stories, and Mary automatically tuned it out. Matthew moved to the cabinet and poured himself a glass of water. Mary drained her glass and crossed the room to join him.

She picked up the bottle of scotch and uncapped it, glancing at him.

"Hello," Matthew said.

"Hello. Are you enjoying yourself?" Mary asked in a low voice.

If Matthew hadn't been so sure she was mocking him, he might have thought she was flirting with him. He looked down at her. For some reason he felt like he could trust her, even though he knew there was no reason why that should be the case. He expelled a breath.

"What does he want from me?" he said in a near-whisper, giving Mary a quizzical look. "Why am I here?"

Mary shrugged. "He likes exploring the family tree," she said. "You're novel."

"And your coming to my office the other day. That was just a coincidence?"

Mary raised her eyebrows, genuinely surprised. "It was."

"But did it have something to do with your father? The reason you wanted a lawyer, I mean." His blue eyes studied hers.

"It may have."

"Did you find another lawyer?"

Mary frowned. "No. I haven't." Why were they talking so quietly and why were they so close to each other?

Matthew shrugged. "You can talk to me if you want." He didn't know why he offered; curiosity, maybe, but he wasn't prepared for the look of surprise on her face.

Mary blinked, thrown off-guard by the kindness in his voice. She quickly recovered, reminding herself that Matthew Crawley was not someone she liked. "Why would you help me? You don't even want to be here."

Matthew grimaced. "About that, listen, Mary-"

Those eyes again.

"You don't have to explain yourself, Matthew. I don't want to be here, either." She looked at him archly and walked away, leaving Matthew with his mouth gaping in confusion.

Edith was still talking. Mary couldn't help looking at Matthew as he sat down across the room. He listened to Edith politely. He had big hands, Mary noticed, looking at the one that held his glass. Before she could stop herself, she glanced down at his feet. God, what was she doing? She sucked in a deep breath and turned her attention to Edith, forcing herself to listen.

Mary had no idea what Edith was going on about. Why had Matthew offered to help her? Had it been weird between them just then, at the cabinet, or was it just her? Mary thought about telling him the whole story, things she hadn't discussed in full detail with anyone- about how she wanted to quit her job, how Robert threatened to cut her off, kick her off the CP board of directors, write her out of his will. Take everything that was rightfully hers just because she wanted to make her own path. Robert had followed in his forefathers' footsteps so closely he was unwilling to accept or consider any kind of change, which was what had both driven Mary away and made him unable to forgive her for carving out her own way.

Mary could feel heat rising in her cheeks as she thought about it, and she looked at her father with a hard glare, watching as he talked to her sister as if he weren't the same man threatening to disown her. She forced herself to stop the train of thought. When she looked up, Matthew's eyes were on hers. It took her a second to look away, and confusion- or something- rose in her chest. Mary shifted in her chair. Whatever she had expected out of this weekend, this wasn't it.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the delay! This chapter took a little polishing. As always thanks for reading and let me know your thoughts! You can look forward to another chapter at Downton before we return to the hustle and bustle of London :)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello there! Sorry for the delay. This chapter had a mind of its own. It got very long so I've split it in two. Here's part one (meaning there will be another chapter at Downton after this). Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

In spite of everything, Mary had a sound sleep, as she always did back in her childhood bed. She awoke peacefully before her alarm went off, glad to see it was early enough for her to have some time to herself before beginning the day. Rubbing her eyes, she got out of bed and went to the window. She pulled the curtain back with one hand and took a deep breath. Sunlight streamed in. The sight of the grounds pleased her, and she knew how fresh the air would be outside. She pulled on a sweater. She would take a walk before breakfast.

The morning sun was bright and the grass dewy. Mary meandered towards the gardens with a book in hand, happy to let the crisp air fill her lungs. But she was only a few steps into the gardens when she heard a hello, and she glanced up to see Matthew at the other end of the path.

"Good morning," she said as they approached each other. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just getting some fresh air," Matthew replied. "I hope that's all right."

"It is. And how do you find our gardens?"

Again he might have mistaken her tone for flirtation if she had been someone else. "Very nice," Matthew said. "I wish we could get this in London. Even if there were enough greenery, there wouldn't be air like this."

"I know," Mary said. "I do miss it. I think I even sleep better here. Did you sleep all right?"

"Very well, thank you." Matthew turned to continue in the direction she'd been walking, deciding that his company must not be too unwelcome. He looked at her keenly as she started walking. "Do you come home often?'

"Not as often as my mother would like."

Matthew chuckled. "You know, I always thought the lakes were the most beautiful part of England," he said, looking around. "But being here… I think this place gives it a run for its money."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Come on. This place beats the lakes hands-down."

"I don't know, I love it up there. My father always took us for vacation. It was my mother's favorite place."

"Well, it's pretty, but it's not Yorkshire."

"You might be a little biased." Matthew had to hide a smile at Mary's indignation.

"Even if I am, I'm still right," Mary said. There was a beat of silence, and then they both burst out laughing. Mary glanced at Matthew and smiled when she found that he only looked amused.

"Sorry," she said.

Her tone was almost cheeky, but Matthew saw a flash of something else behind her smile, something like self-awareness. Maybe she was uptight, and she was certainly indecipherable most of the time, but she wasn't a complete bitch.

So far, this was the nicest conversation they'd ever had. He gave her a sideways look. "You really like an argument, don't you?"

Mary laughed again, and Matthew, absurdly, felt proud of himself.

"I suppose so," she said, not meeting his eyes.

"You should've been a lawyer."

"Believe me, I get enough of it as an editor," Mary said. She turned a corner, and they began walking back in the direction of the house, falling into a slow, easy step together.

"Is it hard to be away from the magazine for a weekend?"

Mary shrugged. "A bit. But my assistant has everything under control in case of emergency. I did a bit of work before bed last night, but luckily I didn't have anything pressing for the weekend."

"Seems like a complicated business."

"I can't argue with that," Mary said. "Not that law is simple." She flashed a glance at him.

Matthew chuckled. "No, not at all. I'll be glad to get back to the office." He groaned. "God, that makes me sound terribly dull, doesn't it?"

"I understand. It's hard to be away from London."

"But it must be nice to have home relatively nearby," Matthew said, gesturing to the house.

"Yes, sometimes. And sometimes I wish my parents lived in the Sahara Desert," Mary said dryly. Then she remembered that Matthew's parents were dead, and he didn't have any home to go back to at all, and she felt awful. "But yes, it is nice," she said quickly. "I'm grateful."

Matthew must have picked up on the change in her expression, because he smiled. "It was hard when we had to sell my father's house, but I've made a home in London. It's lovely Ella has moved there now."

"That is lovely," Mary said with feeling. "I imagine it's a comfort to have her nearby."

"Yes, and much easier to keep an eye on her," Matthew said, and they laughed. Matthew looked off into the distance as he continued. "She brought a lot of things from my parents' house when she moved, stuff she'd kept that I'd almost forgotten about. She's a real hand at interior design, and she decorated her apartment with it. Sort of surprised me with it. When I saw, it felt like London really was our home."

Mary swallowed hard, surprised to feel a wave of sadness. She had no idea what to say, and just looked at him, a tremulous smile twitching at her lips. Matthew's brow was furrowed, but when he turned to meet her gaze his expression cleared and he shrugged.

"Ah, well. Anyway."

"It's wonderful you have your parents' things," Mary managed to say. "Dad told us about your father—of course, because otherwise he would've been dragging him out here. What happened to your mother?" She asked it gently, and she was relieved when he didn't seem to mind.

"She died just after Ella was born," Matthew replied. "I was four. I don't remember much about her, but I do remember how kind she was. I was always holding her hand, wherever we went. I feel worse for Ella; she didn't know her at all."

"And your father never remarried?"

Matthew shook his head. "He always said it was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, and once you had that, there was no use for anything else."

"That's so sweet," Mary said. For some reason, she nearly felt like crying.

"Don't look so sad." Matthew laughed, so Mary did too. "It's been a long time. I'm sorry to go on about it."

"No, I don't mind," Mary said. "But we can talk about happier things. Like breakfast, which I think should be served by now. Shall we find out?"

Matthew smiled at her. Some sort of understanding passed between them as the mood cleared from sadness to light, and Mary led them into the house.

* * *

Robert took Matthew hunting in the afternoon, somewhat ridiculously in Mary's opinion, since Robert hadn't hunted in ages and Matthew clearly hadn't held a rifle a day in his life, and Edith, Mary and Cora took Ella shopping in the town. Mary found she rather liked Matthew's sister, and the excursion was more fun than she'd anticipated. Ella reminded her a little bit of Sybil, and Mary's stories about her youngest sister had resulted in an offer from Ella to have a dinner party back in London, when Mary could bring Sybil along. Mary had been taken aback; she hadn't exactly been planning to keep in touch with these people. Neither of them was what she had expected. She kept thinking back to her undeniably pleasant conversation with Matthew that morning with no small measure of confusion.

Matthew and Robert returned from "the hunt" just before dinner, and everyone was more relaxed at the meal than they had been the night before. However, Mary was a little wary of her father; he had been strangely cheerful towards her that morning and didn't mention work all dinner. Mary almost wanted to bring it up herself. She knew she should discuss it with him, and under normal circumstances she would have done so weeks ago, but the knowledge that the conversation would be frustrating at best was what had kept her from bringing it up in the first place. Mary had fully expected him to try to have it out while she was here, but now she wondered if she would escape without a blow-up.

They played a card game after dinner which found Mary and Matthew partnered against Cora and Ella, Robert and Edith. They were doing rather well; Edith was useless at card games and Cora was more interested in the conversation.

"All right…" Matthew said, starting to lay down a card. Mary cleared her throat.

"Spades," she observed, raising her eyebrows as Matthew laid down an eight of spades, as if she found it very interesting. Matthew quickly glanced up at her and, making eye contact, pulled the card back to his hand.

"On second thought…"

"That's table talk!" Edith said. "You're cheating."

"We're not cheating," Mary said calmly. "I simply noted the suit of the card Matthew was playing."

"It's cheating and you know it."

"You're losing either way, so what does it matter?"

"No more talking," Cora said. "Matthew, dear, go ahead and play your card."

On the next round, Cora and Ella began catching up. Mary made vigorous eye contact with Matthew during his turn, who played along with a sparkle in his eye. When it was Mary's turn, she made to lay down a heart and felt a sharp kick to her ankle. Stifling a gasp, she snatched the card back and reexamined her hand. She glanced up at Matthew and back at her hand, and played a club.

"Yessss," Matthew hissed, and he and Mary high-fived over the table, laughing.

"Table talk," Edith said again.

"We weren't talking," Matthew pointed out, feeling emboldened by Mary's laughing eyes.

"Well, you were kicking each other or something."

"That's all right, Edith," Robert said. "It's just how Mary does business, isn't it?"

Mary lay down her hand and looked her father in the eye. "Excuse me?"

Robert gave her a little smile. "Never mind, my dear. Just a joke."

"It wasn't."

"Well, why don't we retire?" Cora said. "It looks like Mary and Matthew have this wrapped up, anyway. Good tournament, everybody."

Mary rolled her eyes, still angry, but she pushed her cards into the middle of the table and stood up with the rest of them amidst an awkward chorus of "good nights." Robert had apparently promised to show Matthew some book in the library, so he led the young man there while Mary and Edith showed Ella back to her room before retiring themselves.

Mary changed her clothes and got in bed with a book, but she couldn't concentrate. She was still fuming over what her father had said, and the longer she thought about it, the angrier she felt. She got out of bed and stood in the dark hallway with her arms folded, waiting. She went over her words again and again in her head, pacing back and forth until she heard the creak of the stairs.

"Mary," Robert said when she appeared out of the darkness. "Hello."

"Let's talk."

* * *

_Sorry for the abrupt ending, it just got a little too long and I had to cut it! Cliffhanger, right? ;) But I will try to be quick with the next one. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/followed and to anyone who is reading! X_


	6. Chapter 6

_"Mary," Robert said when she met him in the hall. "Hello."_

_"Let's talk." _

Mary pushed past her father and started down the stairs without waiting for an answer. She walked straight to the small library, and he followed. She closed the door and turned to face him.

"Mary, it's late," Robert said, putting a weary expression on his face. "Let's go to bed and we can discuss this tomorrow."

"No, I want to discuss it now," Mary said. "And clearly you do too, or you wouldn't be making comments like the one you made during the game."

"How do you expect me to feel, Mary?" Robert demanded, his anger flaring. "My daughter wants to leave the company. What's more, she doesn't tell me. Instead, she takes interviews with some of our biggest competitors."

"If you would've given me a chance to explain—"

"Explain what? That you're done with Crawley Publications? Suddenly it's not good enough for you anymore? And are you done with this family, too? Bored of this house where we raised you? Tired of your mother?"

"Oh, for god's sake, Dad! I was going to tell you—I wanted to tell you calmly! I wanted us to be able to discuss this like adults. It's not that weird, you know, people change jobs, they move on, they try something new… I didn't mention it to you right away because wanted to have a plan in place first, to have some idea of whether or not I even could leave—"

"Harper's Bazaar, Time, Allure… How did you expect to keep it a secret when you've talked to every magazine in the industry?" Suddenly Robert was shouting, and Mary found herself yelling back.

"Harper's is the only one I've sat down with! Allure wrote me, but I haven't responded, and you are clearly misinformed!"

Robert laughed. "I'm misinformed? You're betraying the company! And you tried to do it behind my back!"

"You know, given the way you treat me at work I'm surprised you're so upset about it!" Mary wanted to be rational, but her words came tumbling out before she could think, and her desire to keep the peace was overcome by frustration. "You don't listen to me, you veto my decisions, you don't give Dernier Cri the support it needs, and you treat me like I still don't know what I'm doing! Why are _you_ the last person to whom I need to prove that I am in this job because I deserve it, not because I'm a Crawley?" Mary cried.

"Do you know how ungrateful you sound? How selfish?" Robert bellowed. "How dare you! Do you have any idea what this is like for me?"

Mary clenched her jaw, trying desperately to master the ache in her throat that always preceded tears, unable to speak for fear she would start crying. She swallowed hard, unwilling to show any sign of weakness.

Her father opened his arms expectantly, raising his eyebrows at her. "Well? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

"You seem to have it all worked out already," Mary said in a brittle voice. "I don't see what I could possibly say."

Robert ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. Mary watched as he paced in a small circle. "How do you think you would you react, if your editor-in-chief and daughter, partner in the company and vice chairwoman of the board suddenly was taking meetings with other magazines?"

"One meeting, Dad! One meeting! Not that anything is stopping me from taking more! Anna has a dozen editors waiting for my call!"

"Yes, and why do you think so?" He was yelling again. "Because of this family, because of this company! You would be _nothing_ without Crawley Publications!"

Mary stared at him, her mouth open but her voice paralyzed by anger. She nearly hated him in that moment, and although a fog of anger clouded her brain, she felt quite clearly, almost calmly, that what he had said was unforgivable, because its meaning ran so deep, its insult went to the very core of who she was and what she had worked her entire career for. Mary believed there was a line you didn't cross with the people you loved, and he had crossed it.

"And you wonder why I want to leave," Mary finally said. Her voice was ragged with unwelcome emotion and she swallowed hard, forcing herself to seal over her expression. She stiffened into a steely posture.

"Mary—"

"Go away," she said, composed and rigid now though her voice was thick. "Get out. I'll give you two weeks' notice when I make my decision. And I'm hiring a lawyer so we can discuss the inheritance and anything else."

Their stances were comically similar as they stood there looking at each other, father and daughter at a gross impasse, their bodies turned away from each other but eyes locked.

Robert's lips disappeared into a thin line as he regarded Mary daughter. "Fine."

Mary gave him a single nod. She would say nothing more, give him nothing more. To her relief, Robert turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. Mary stood, slowly becoming aware of how hard she was breathing, of the pounding in her head and the ache in her throat.

She sank down onto the sofa and put a hand over her mouth, her back stiff. She would not cry, she would not cry… Tears dripped out of the corners of her eyes, and she closed them tightly, only pushing more tears out. What else had she expected?

The number of times she had been reduced to this by her father… The man who had been her hero growing up, her champion. She had always been his favorite, but she had always been smarter than him, too, she knew. She saw it now with the distance an adult view afforded of one's parents. Robert guarded his birthright closely; he saw himself as its keeper. It was the only thing that could trump family, and it always had. Mary had seen it happen with her mother, who never been Robert's top priority, and she wondered now why she hadn't known that it would happen to her, as well.

A soft knock broke into her thoughts. Her instinct was to yell "go away," but she could tell it wasn't her father's rapping, and for some reason she allowed the door to open. She turned around and saw a blond head poke through the door.

"Matthew," Mary gasped. She quickly wiped her eyes and stood, fixing a smile on her face as she turned to face him. "H-hello."

"I'm sorry," Matthew said, hovering in the doorway. "I can go—"

"No, it's all right." Mary didn't know what made her say it, but she did. He looked up with sharp blue eyes, as if checking to make sure it really was all right, and then tentatively crossed the room towards her, with a look that was half kindness, half _something_ in those eyes. Mary shivered, feeling like he could see through her.

"It's just—well, I heard shouting," Matthew said. "I was still in the library. I just thought… I'd see if you were okay."

To his surprise, Mary gave him a wan smile. "Thank you. I'm fine," she said with a deep breath, adopting a light tone. "My father and I tend to disagree on things. We have an argument over something or other every time I come home. Would you like to sit? I can get us some tea."

"That's all right," Matthew said, but he sat down on the couch, and Mary curled up on the armchair, tucking her bare feet beneath her. She had changed since dinner, Matthew realized, and was wearing leggings and a loose-fitting lavender sweater that was slipping off her shoulder now.

Mary looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. She looked back up at him with an almost wry expression on her face.

"I'm sorry you have to bear witness to our familial squabbles," she said. "I'm sure it's hardly your idea of a perfect weekend." She laughed harshly.

Matthew shrugged. "It's a beautiful place," he said, looking up at the high ceiling. "I can see why your parents are proud to show it off. And your family has been very kind. It's good to get away, anyhow. Ella's always telling me I don't have enough fun."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "And has staying here counted as fun?"

Matthew felt embarrassed. Mary made him feel like he constantly needed to be explaining himself. "Yes, actually," he finally said. "And at least it's getting out of the city, right?"

"I was kidding, but I'm glad to hear it," Mary said. She laughed. It was a surprisingly nice sound. Matthew allowed himself to chuckle, too, and they smiled at each other for a moment.

"My assistant tells me the same thing about not having enough fun," Mary continued. "Anna. She's the only one I've talked to about this whole thing with my father. She's not an assistant, really. Or she's more than one, anyway. We've been friends since school."

Matthew knew he had to tread carefully. "And… what does Anna say about it?"

Mary shrugged. "She's seen all the ways my father makes things… difficult. I mean, she works for him too." She laughed. "Anna just wants me to be happy. She's very practical, and very helpful, and the best listener I know. She's always very level-headed, although sometimes I just want someone to scream with me. But she gets it. She thinks I should quit if that's what I want."

"And is it what you want?"

Mary raised her eyes to Matthew's. He had no right to be asking her questions like this, just as little as she had reason to be talking to him. She thought it, automatically perhaps, but she couldn't seem to feel it. She considered his question. "I wish it wasn't."

Matthew nodded. He wanted to give her space, but he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to draw her out of herself, to listen to her. Matthew thought he could assist her, but somewhere it was dawning on him that his desire to hear about her problems had very little to do with his ability to give her a legal consultation. He just wanted to _help- _and he was startled by how much he wanted to know her. He wanted to see this side of her that was so completely different from the Mary who had first walked into his office and insulted him, this other Mary that was so well hidden, so slowly being revealed.

"But it is. I want to do something new. I want a challenge. I thought I could be my own person and still work for Crawley Publications, but maybe… maybe I was wrong." Mary shrugged. "We couldn't even talk about it reasonably, you know? That's partly my fault, I'm sure. But I didn't want to leave like this. I wanted to be able to go back to Crawley one day, if things worked out that way. I do care about it, you know. A lot. But right now, it's not working anymore. Not for me."

"Maybe you can go back one day," Matthew said. "You shouldn't write it off. You don't know what the future could bring. For now, it sounds like you're doing the right thing."

Mary looked up. "It does?" Then she laughed at the hopefulness, and the uncertainty, in her own voice, and Matthew chuckled too.

"You sound like someone who cares very much about her work and knows what she wants. And you know that if you aren't getting that where you are, it's time to move on. In the end, you have to do what's right for you."

Mary nodded. "Thank you. I'm sorry for being so…." She wiped her eyes, not knowing how to say it.

"Don't apologize," Matthew said.

Mary smiled. "You're very kind for someone who was just thrown in the middle of a family feud."

"I've seen much worse in my office, believe it or not."

Mary laughed, still sniffing.

"Look, I don't know the whole story, and your relationship with your father is your business, but…"

Mary looked up at him. "Yes? What do you think? Tell me."

Matthew paused and licked his lips as he formulated the right words. "It sounds like you should leave Crawley's. You shouldn't feel beholden to anyone but yourself. You made your career on your own. You don't owe him anything."

Mary's breath caught and she felt her eyes fill with tears again. "You really think that?"

"I really do," Matthew said. "I think anybody would tell you that. But Mary, he's also your father. I know you're angry now, but maybe over time, you can come to see him and Crawley's separately, and hope he can do the same thing."

Mary had too many feelings to say what she really thought. "Is that your professional opinion?"

She was joking a little, but Matthew replied seriously. "No. It's my opinion as Matthew." They locked eyes for a moment, and Mary nodded.

"I'm sure you're right," she said wearily. "I just don't feel like we can ever..."

"You don't have to make it right tonight, or even soon," he said. "But don't cut him off, either. And in the meantime, take some of those meetings." He grinned, and Mary smiled back.

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath and wiping her face. She laughed at herself. "Thank you. Seriously."

"Anytime. Seriously."

They were quiet for a few moments.

"Are you taking the early train with us tomorrow?" Mary asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. Greg will drive us to the station. We should leave around 6:30."

Matthew laughed. "I can't believe you have a driver."

Mary rolled her eyes. "You don't know the half of it."

"Do people ever call you Lady Mary?"

Mary burst out laughing. "Have you been waiting to ask that? Yes, they do, in fact," she said. "My parents' friends. At events and things. Every once in a while in the papers." She raised her eyebrows. "You get to see me in my natural habitat. I'm sure you're astounded by the glamour."

Matthew laughed. "Well, you are pretty glamorous. Especially right now."

Mary should've been offended by his teasing, but instead she laughed. "Yes, crying in my pajamas. If only all of London could see me now. I'm sure some of those eligible bachelors my mother is always talking about would come running."Mary gave a dry laugh. She couldn't believe that Matthew was seeing her like this, either, but for some reason she found she minded much less than she should. She didn't know why she was talking to him so much, but it was making her feel better. It was very comfortable to just sit and talk, nothing but their voices in the quiet room.

Matthew chuckled at her joke, although he was pretty sure most of the men of London would have lined up at her doorstep if she'd let them. "So no boyfriend then."

"No." Mary shook her head with a laugh. "As my mother made sure to mention at dinner." She shrugged. "I just don't have that much time to date. The only time I go out is when Anna drags me, to be honest."

"I know what you mean. I met my ex-girlfriend at a law conference. I'm not kidding."

"How frightfully boring of you." Mary grinned.

"Yes, it was. That's exactly the kind of couple we were, too. Normal and boring."

Mary looked at him. "What happened?"

"She wanted to move in together, and I realized I wasn't in love with her. I cared about her, but I wasn't in love. And she tried so hard—too hard—all the time, and it just wasn't working. You shouldn't have to try that hard to feel a spark. I think so, anyway. She was the sweetest girl I've known, but… not for me." Matthew cringed at his own words, afraid of coming off like an asshole.

"Well, it sounds like you did both of you a favor," Mary replied.

"You think?"

She nodded. "You're right. About the spark."

"Thanks." Matthew smiled. "I felt bad at the time, but it was the right thing."

"Definitely. Take it from someone who has been set up on more dates than you've probably been on in your life. You can't force a spark."

"No. You can't," Matthew said, looking at her.

Mary felt her cheeks warm a little, and she was glad the lights were low. She didn't know why she should be embarrassed in front of Matthew, but it wasn't like she usually sat around discussing love with people— and near strangers, at that. She sighed and stretched, breaking eye contact. "Well, I suppose we should get to bed. Thanks for the pep talk."

"No problem. I'm sorry about your father."

"Don't be." Mary stood, and he stood too.

"So have you had a nice stay?" Mary asked, cocking her head as they left the library. "In spite of my family's… idiosyncrasies?"

Matthew grinned. "I have, in fact. I know… well, I know you know I didn't exactly have high hopes for the weekend." He paused and they both laughed, dispelling any awkwardness. "But you have proved me very wrong with a lovely visit."

She laughed. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. And I suppose I've forgiven you for your low hopes."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," Matthew said, returning her smirk. "And do you know, I don't think I've ever had such a comfortable sleep as I have here."

"The beds are old, but they're great. I keep threatening to take one to London."

"How long has the house been in your family?"

"Since the early 1800s. Just over 200 years now." Mary glanced at him playfully. "I thought Edith gave you a history lesson. Are you a bad student?"

"Er… yes, she did," Matthew said, going red. "I may not have, uh, retained all the facts she imparted. She is a veritable fountain of information."

Mary grinned. "You're lucky you escaped in less than two hours. The last time she gave a tour, it took three."

Matthew laughed. They reached the top of the stairs, and they stood there for a moment, neither knowing what to say. The hallway was dark, and everything was quiet.

"Well… thank you," Mary finally managed. "Good night."

She turned to go, but Matthew caught her hand. He squeezed it tightly and gave her a small smile. "It's going to be all right," he whispered.

Mary's breath caught as she looked up at him. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She nodded instead, her breathing heavy all of a sudden.

Matthew swallowed and nodded too. Her hand was soft and delicate; it seemed to fit perfectly into his own. He didn't want to let go.

Goosebumps tickled Mary's skin, but her hand was warm in Matthew's grip. She fought the desire to twine her fingers through his. Her heart was fluttering. It was dark in the hall. The thought came to her that she could just take a small step forward and capture those lips in hers… She found, suddenly, that that was what she wanted. She knew it was madness, but she couldn't think beyond that moment, beyond how close his mouth was and how easy it would be to-

Matthew cleared his throat and dropped her hand, and Mary quickly took a step backward.

"Well." She swallowed. "Thank you again, Matthew."

"It was no problem. Good night, Mary." What was no problem? He had forgotten what she was thanking him for.

"Good night." Mary mustered a smile, and then returned to her room. Matthew stood there in the dark until he heard the click of her door. He put his hands over his face with a groan. What had just happened?

Mary closed the door with both hands and leaned against it, pressing her back into the cold wood, her chest heaving with her breath. She shook her head as if to clear it, letting out a big breath. She could only conclude that it was most certainly time to get back to London.

* * *

_Thanks for reading, lovely readers! I hope you enjoyed it. __I just wanted to make a quick note about Robert, because I know some people were hoping he wouldn't be too harsh. Robert has faults, like any human, and part of this story is about exploring that and his and Mary's relationship. I tend to have a rather unforgiving reading of Robert's irrationality, single-mindedness and lack of faith in Mary's ability on the show, and I think it translates particularly well to this modern situation. If you're a big Robert fan, you can bear in mind that in my story he still does love Mary and the rest of his family very much, and he will get an opportunity to show that side eventually. And, of course, this is first and foremost an M/M story, so Robert's role is really secondary and isn't the focus of the story. ____So those are just my thoughts on Robert, in case you were curious. _I hope you are enjoying the drama and angst though- can't let it get TOO fluffy. ;) As always comments and thoughts are so welcomed. x 


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